Learning to Dance
by RamblingRae
Summary: Expecting dancing lessons from Spain, America goes to a dance studio only to find that the Spaniard left a certain Italian to teach him instead. Romerica. One-shot.


**AN: Romerica because Romerica-**

 **Really, I love this cracky pairing. I can't help it.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own the Hetalias- never will QuQ**

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 **Learning to Dance**

It was a cool yet rainy evening when America ran down a long sidewalk. He had a duffel bag on his shoulder and wore a simple red sweatshirt with a piece of toast on it. The toast had a smiley face drawn on it and it said "Stay toasty!" He always wore cheesy shirts like that.

"Shit, I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago!" He cursed aloud, panting as he ran further. He had been running for about a mile- Spain, known to him as Toni or Antonio, had promised to give him some dancing lessons that day. Though Alfred knew that Antonio wouldn't really be mad at him for being late, he still felt a bit bad.

Alfred had been wanting to learn to dance for quite some time- mostly so that when there were formal parties, he wouldn't look ridiculous when trying to dance with someone. So, when Spain had promised to hook him up with some lessons, America had been thrilled.

Looking around, the American finally saw the sign for the dance studio that the Spaniard had promised to meet him at. Apparently, he owned many dancing studios around the world. How convenient.

Panting, Alfred entered the dance studio- he was, luckily, not too soaking wet. He sat his duffel bag down and plopped onto the floor next to it, hoping to catch his breath. "So you finally decided to show up, stupid Americano." A grumpy Italian accent sounded from above him.

"ooking up with startled cerulean eyes, America saw Romano standing there- when he had been clearly expecting Spain. "Uh... hiya Lovino.." He sounded a bit stunned and immediately sat up.

Lovino rolled his amber colored eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "The tomato bastard cancelled on you and supposedly texted you saying that I'd replace him. Lazy bastard," the Italian grumbled the last two words, looking pissed off as usual. Alfred blinked slowly and then pulled out his phone and surely enough, there was a text message that read:

 _ **¡Hola Estados Unidos~! Lo siento, Alfredo, I won't be able to make it to our little lesson today :( But luckily Lovi has agreed to teach you in my place! \^o^/ Good luck, mi amigo! ;D You'll need it! -Toni**_

After America read this, a soft "oh" escaped his lips. Romano sighed in annoyance. "Go and get dressed, stronzo, and then meet me in studio number one. Pronto." The auburn-haired male ordered his sunny blonde companion, hands still on his hips. Alfred stared up at him with a blink. The other really was quite feminine... and not bad looking either.

Before a faint blush could grace the American's cheeks, he shot onto his feet and scrambled over to the bathroom with a "Sir yes, sir!" Lovino rolled his eyes and walked off to studio one.

He was already dressed to dance- he wore some black slacks and a deep red button up shirt. He looked nice but he was comfortable in what he was wearing. Lovino was a very handsome man- it came with being Italian. And he knew it.

Despite his grumpy exterior, he could actually flirt pretty well and make anyone flustered if he really tried. He stood there and grumbled while he waited for Alfred to come back out, mumbling something insulting about both America and Spain.

After about five minutes, Alfred walked out in a muscle shirt, some basketball shorts, and a pair of American flag patterned converse. Lovino's eyes narrowed at his attire- it was completely wrong. It figures that the American wouldn't be prepared for this... but he did look good, the Italian had to admit.

Why all the other countries called the American fat, Romano would never know. Alfred's muscles were perfectly shown off by the tight white muscle shirt- it was almost too tight to be even legal.

Lovino found himself staring far more than he should have. He hoped that the American didn't notice his stare- that'd be embarrassing. Luckily for him, America was as thick at they came. The sunny blonde rubbed the back of his neck with a laugh. "Aheh, I'm ready for my lesson, teach." He said in a light hearted tone.

Lovino scowled. "First of all, stronzo, it's _Lovino_ not 'teach'. And second of all, you're not properly dressed! Didn't that bastard Spain tell you what the hell you needed to wear?" He sounded impatient as always, and was probably even more impatient because of how damn distracting that American and his muscles were.

Alfred blinked obliviously. "Uh.. No, sorry, he didn't." Lovino face-palmed and groaned. "Ugh.. Fine, let's get started. What kind of dancing have you done before?" Romano questioned, placing a boom box on the floor. America rubbed the back of his neck with a little nervous laugh. "...does the electric slide count?" The Italian face-palmed yet again. "Mio dio, you're an idiot."

Yet another sigh escaped the Italian while Alfred looked apologetic. "Sorry, but that's why I needed lessons, dude. I've never danced before in my life!" He said with a laugh. God he was loud. A loud American. A loud, sexy American. Lovino nearly slapped himself for thinking such a thing and told himself to focus.

Looking at the floor and avoiding the American's cerulean gaze, the auburnette cleared his throat. "Then I guess we'll have to start with the basics. Just a slow dance will do. There are three basic steps. We'll do it without music first," Lovino instructed.

Alfred stared straight at the Italian's face and attempted to listen. It was hard to focus though, because of how... good-looking the other was. How the heck was he supposed to focus when his teacher was so damn hot? A blush covered the American's cheeks as he just stared, not listening to the other's words at this point. He was startled when Lovino grabbed one of Alfred's hands and placed it on his hip.

"- your right hand goes on my hip. And the other one goes on my shoulder. When dancing, you shouldn't be afraid to touch your partner. But don't get any funny ideas, stronzo!" Lovino warned, a blush of his own creeping onto his cheeks. "O-of course not, bro," Alfred stuttered, trying to laugh it off. God, this was awkward.

"And now step back, two, three, four, step forward, two, three, four-" Lovino started chanting and counting their steps. Alfred started out stumbling and stepping on the other's feet- surprisingly Lovino was pretty patient with him.

"Step back, two, three, four," Lovino chanted in rhythm, still not meeting the other's gaze, so he didn't notice that the American was blushing too.

Soon, after about ten minutes, America got the hang of it and was soon chanting the steps along with Romano. After a while, the chanting stopped and soon they were in total silence.

"...you're a great teacher, y'know," Alfred finally said after a few moments of silence. Lovino looked startled and finally looked up- his deep amber eyes meeting Alfred's bright, twinkling, cerulean ones. "What?"

"I said.. You're a great teacher. Really. One time, England tried to teach me how to dance and his instructions didn't make a lick of sense to me!" Alfred said with a nostalgic laugh, grinning a little.

The Italian rolled his eyes at the mention of the Englishman. "Your boyfriend couldn't teach you how to dance? How pathetic." Lovino grumbled loudly. When the American laughed, the auburnette's eyebrows narrowed. "What's so funny?"

"Artie's not my boyfriend," Alfred explained with a slight chuckle. "Honestly, I think he's banging Francis behind closed doors!" Romano blinked at this. He had honestly thought... Alfred and Arthur had honestly seemed so close.

A spark of hope lit up within Lovino- whether he noticed it or not was another story. "...so you're not dating anyone?" The Italian found himself asking as they glided across the wooden floors of the studio dance room.

The American shook his head. "Nah, I'm a single pringle," he said in a goofy tone. Before Lovino could scoff at the horrible line, Alfred said, "and how about you? Are you and Toni secretly dating?" He questioned. Really, he had always been curious. Antonio talked about Lovino all the time- so Alfred honestly thought that there was something between him.

The Italian shook his head. "Spain and I are just friends. If you can even consider an annoying bastard like that to be a friend." The only reason that the two were so close was because Spain was the only person that didn't seem to compare him to Feliciano.

With everyone else, it was always "Feli this" and "Feliciano that" and "why can't you be more happy like Italy?" Honestly, it annoyed and hurt Lovino a lot. He was quiet for a while. So quiet that Alfred looked a bit concerned.

They stopped dancing for a moment. "...something on your mind?" He questioned in a softer tone than usual, but he still managed to snap Lovino out of his thoughts. "..it's nothing." Lovino muttered, gently pushing Alfred's hand off of his waist and crossing his arms.

Alfred frowned. "You can tell me, you know. I mean... it's always good to talk about something if it's bothering you. I'm not a bad listener, y'know," he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lovino sighed and leaned against a wall, sliding down to the floor. "...I was just thinking about how everyone seems to compare me to Feliciano." He admitted. Alfred sat down next to him and kept silent so that Romano could continue. "Everyone thinks that he's better. He's the cheerful one- the one that everyone likes! No one needs me- no one needs Southern Italy- Romano, the grumpy loner." He sounded bitter and Alfred could've sworn that he saw tears peeking out of the corner of those normally fiery amber eyes.

He was startled when Alfred suddenly grabbed both of his hands. Lovino's neck snapped around to face the American. Alfred had a somber look on his face. A somber yet melancholic look- one that didn't suit the normally bright and cheery blonde. "Lovino," Alfred began in a soft yet firm tone, "don't you ever compare yourself to Feliciano. You're not him. You're _you_ , darnit! You're Romano- Lovino Vargas for Christ's sake! You're that foul-mouthed Italian who acts tough, but is really more like a teddy bear- a misunderstood teddy bear! You're this... this..." He struggled to find the words to say. "You're great, Lovino. Wonderful, amazing, handsome, sexy... And god, you just don't know what you _do_ to people, Lovino Vargas!" And at that, Alfred crushed his lips to his companion's, kissing him deeply yet passionately.

Lovino kissed back without hesitation. And as they kissed, he felt tears flowing down his face, making the kiss hot and wet and just plain.. awkward yet wonderful. He felt like his life was some cheesy romantic movie or a crazy after school special- and he was the main character. Lovino broke the kiss, which was impressive since Alfred had pinned him against the wall during the kiss, and panted softly. He stared up at the American with tears still running down his face. Alfred rested his forehead against the other's, panting as well.

The Italian felt like a girl right then. He was emotional enough to be one. "...sorry." Lovino muttered, not moving from their position. "I shouldn't be fucking crying. I'm an idiot." He added. Alfred's eyes narrowed as he stared deeply into the other's. "It's okay to cry, y'know. Don't be sorry."

They both fell silent after this- their bodies remained in this close and intimate position. Neither one of them dared to move- as if the whole moment would shatter from their movements. It was America who broke the silence. "...Let's get out of here." He suggested. Lovino blinked but nodded. "Yeah. Good idea. For once."

Alfred slowly moved away and helped Lovino to his feet. "How about we go to this cool pizzeria that just opened up? I'd like to hear ya complain about how real Italian pizza is better."

Lovino rolled his eyes and took the American's hand. "Fine, whatever, stronzo. Let's go." And with that said, the two headed off into the night.


End file.
